The Cento: A Collection of Collage Poems

Introduction

21 InTroduCTIon These Fragments I Have Shored (first published in the New York Times, 2 April 2006) —david Lehman A cento is a collage-poem composed of lines lifted from other sources—often, though not always, from great poets of the past. In Latin the word cento means “patchwork,” and the verse form resembles a quilt of discrete lines stitched together to make a whole. The word cento is also Italian for “one hundred,” and some mosaic poems consist of exactly 100 lines culled by one poet from the work of another to pay tribute to him or her. The ancient Greeks assembled centos in homage to Homer, the Romans in homage to Virgil. ever since T. s. eliot raided elizabethan drama and 17th-century poetry for “The Waste Land,” the collage has held a strong attraction for modern poets. The cento as contemporary poets practice it is a specialized form of the collage: an anthology poem from diverse sources. John Ashbery did one called “To a Waterfowl” in 1961, and it is so good I was tempted to include it in the new edition of The Oxford Bookof American Poetry. I still remember one couplet by heart: “Calm was the day and through the trembling air, / Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair.” The first line is by edmund spenser, the second by Wallace stevens, and the combined effect is the magic of Ashbery. Writing a cento may be a kind of extension of the act of reading, a way to prolong the pleasure. What makes the cento so appealing a poetic form—and one with increasing popularity—is the opportunity to revel in quotations and yoke them strategically for a variety of effects beginning with surprise and humor and ending sometimes in clarity and vision. After editing this new anthology, I felt inevitably drawn to the idea of forging a cento from its pages, in honor of the poets and as a souvenir of the experience of working on the project. Here it is: 22 The oxford CenTo If the sun shines but approximately1 Only where love and need are one,2 Who in this Bowling Alley bowld the sun?3 Of whom shall we speak? For every day they die4 Younger than their kids—jeans, ski-pants, sneakers.5 And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes6 Waking far apart on the bed, the two of them.7 And so it was I entered the broken world.8 Good morning, daddy!9 every woman adores a Fascist,10 doing a man’s work, though a child at heart.11 When I am slitting a fish’s head,12 Would he like it if I told him?13 Odd that a thing is most itself when likened,14 everything only connected by ‘‘and’’ and ‘‘and.’’15 There are no flowers in Hell.16 1 Laura Riding, “The World and I.” 2 Robert Frost, “Two Tramps in Mud Time.” 3 edward Taylor, “The Preface” to “God’s determinations Touching His elect.” 4 W. H. Auden, “In Memory of sigmund Freud.” 5 James Merrill, “self-Portrait in Tyvek™ Windbreaker.” 6 edgar Allan Poe, “Annabel Lee.” 7 John Ashbery, “decoy.” 8 Hart Crane, “The Broken Tower.” 9 Langston Hughes, “Good Morning” from “Montage of a dream deferred.” 10 sylvia Plath, “daddy.” 11 Robert Frost, “‘Out, Out—.’” 12 elinore Wylie, “The Puritan’s Ballad.” 13 Gertrude stein, “If I Told Him: A Completed Portrait of Picasso.” 14 Richard Wilbur, “Lying.” 15 elizabeth Bishop, “Over 2,000 Illustrations and a Complete Concordance.” 16 H. Phelps Putnam, “Bill Gets Burned.” 23 Give all to love,17 A burnt match skating in a urinal18 That never lost a vote (O Adlai mine).19 What you get married for if you don’t want children?20 And because it is my heart,21 Above, below, around, and in my heart,22 Blessed be God! For he created death!23 And rock-grained, rack-ruined battlements.24 One’s sex asserts itself. desire25 And that White sustenance—26 despair27 —in a sahara of snow,28 As a sort of mournful cosmic last resort.29 Meanwhile, the men, with vestiges of pomp,30 Weep for what little things could make them glad.31 We hurt each other as the bridegroom and the bride hurt each other.32 And I wish I did not feel like your mother.33 17 Ralph Waldo emerson, “Give...